[4] : Tokyo Jujutsu High

Beep-beep-beep-beep…

Beep-beep-beep-beep…

As that irritating alarm echoed through the bedroom, morning had already arrived the next day.

Bright sunlight slipped through a gap in the curtains, striking the hardwood floor. Evidence of last night's escapades lay scattered around the room.

A single black cat ear twitched upright beneath the covers on the bed. The comforter shifted slightly, and a drowsy, lazy voice drifted out.

"Ugh… so loud… What is that?"

"It's my wake-up alarm."

Lifting a corner of the blanket, Bokue Keikain yawned and sat up.

He ignored the cat-eared girl beside him—who was still half-asleep and purring as she tried to coax him back into bed—and headed straight to the desk facing the window. There, he turned off the alarm clock, which had been going off nonstop on the far edge of the desktop.

The instant the noise cut out, the dozing Kuroka finally blinked awake, though one cat ear still drooped. She lifted her head, hair in a tangle.

"You're off to that school again? Gotta say, this alarm clock is humanity's worst invention… Haah…" She yawned. "But I remember your old alarm clock sounded different?"

"I had to replace it," Bokue replied, removing his hand from the clock and glancing back at the cat-eared girl—who was now propping herself up, her more-than-ample figure partly revealed by the rumpled blanket.

"The last one was on the bedside table. You punched it and broke it."

"Well— It scared me! One moment I was fast asleep, next thing I knew it was screaming right by my ear. I nearly died of fright…"

Kuroka's gaze wandered as she tried to defend herself, but her voice held no real conviction.

Bokue shrugged faintly. "Hence why this time I put the alarm clock on the desk—out of reach."

"Mm…"

Kuroka puffed out her cheeks, clearly wanting to gripe that alarm clocks are evil. But her grumbles died in her throat the moment she took a good look at him.

Sunlight from the window poured onto Bokue, outlining a physique that was lean yet undeniably toned.

"…What's wrong?"

He frowned curiously when she went quiet all of a sudden.

Kuroka kept staring. Her lips parted slightly, her voice soft:

"You're… turned on."

"Nope—doesn't matter if I am, there's no time for that. Maybe tonight."

Bokue shook his head, bending down to pick up the clothes strewn across the floor. Then he added:

"Besides, last night we went at it till we both passed out. Even a youkai's body has to need some rest. No point overdoing it first thing in the morning."

"Every time I hear a human telling a youkai not to overdo it, I get this weird sense of role reversal…"

Watching Bokue gather their scattered clothing, Kuroka pushed aside the covers and sat up. She was stark naked—and didn't seem to care.

Suddenly, she flung the blanket away, sprang off the bed, and pounced on him from behind, clinging to him like a determined octopus. Her full weight didn't seem to faze him in the slightest, as if he'd fully anticipated it.

With their skin pressed intimately together, Bokue turned his head and grazed his nose against her cheek.

"You want to maybe put some clothes on first…?"

"Nope~ I'm at home, and nobody else can see me anyway~"

She swayed side to side, humming in playful defiance.

Her plan was simple: she'd gotten a bit excited upon waking, and while she could use youkai magic to "clear her head," she much preferred getting Bokue worked up, too.

If he got aroused enough to skip school, they could spend all day lost in each other's arms.

A win-win, right?

Too bad… it didn't work.

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Twenty minutes later, Bokue Keikain—clean-shaven, hair still damp—sat at the dining table in the living room. Right beside him sat Kuroka, now forcibly dressed in a kimono, wearing a sullen expression.

They were having sandwiches and milk for breakfast. Bokue's sandwich had bacon and eggs; Kuroka's, being a cat youkai fond of fish, was loaded with sardines and bacon.

"By the way," she mumbled between bites, "did anybody respond to that post you made last night?"

Despite being made to wear clothes for modesty's sake, Kuroka still couldn't behave. Beneath the table, her bare feet swung back and forth, sneaking taps against Bokue's calf.

"Let's see…"

He set down his glass of hot milk. Then he reached under the hem of her kimono and gave a swift, precise tap that made her straighten up, momentarily paralyzed. Only then did he pull out his phone to log into the forum.

Sure enough, the thread he'd posted the previous night had attracted plenty of replies:

Some were just random memes, like "6/10," some asked, "Who even asked?" The rest questioned whether it was a joke or a prank prop.

"Huh… that's weird."

He scrolled through the screen, chewing slowly on his sandwich.

By this point, Kuroka had mostly recovered from her brief jolt. Face a little flushed, she leaned closer.

"…Weird how?"

"I can't say it's a problem, exactly."

He shook his head pensively.

Although Tokyo Jujutsu High had set up this "Paranormal forum," it was also open to anyone. Regular people, especially ghost-hunting enthusiasts, used it as a public board.

The school's real goal was to monitor paranormal events across Japan with the help of user posts—kind of a "crowdsourced early warning system."

Even the Keikain Clan, with centuries of Onmyōji knowledge, could only respond to incidents once they got a request—so the jujutsu sorcerers had a similar limitation. They couldn't just comb the entire country day and night.

That didn't mean no pros ever replied to suspicious threads, though. If something urgent came up, real Jujutsu Sorcerers might reach out directly in the forum.

But last night, Bokue had posted about finding a finger wrapped in Jujutsu talismans—an obvious sorcerer's item—and not a single "official" had commented publicly.

Unless—

Like a bolt of lightning, an idea flashed in his mind. He exited the thread and checked his private messages.

Sure enough, there it was: one unread message, received two minutes after he posted. By then, he'd already been busy "tied up" with Kuroka, so he hadn't noticed.

The sender's ID was [TranquilMind]. The opener identified them right away:

—[Hello, I'm Saeko Busujima, a third-year at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Based on your post, the item you found is a Special-Grade Sealed Object belonging to Tokyo Jujutsu High, extremely dangerous. As soon as you see this, please move away from the object and contact me immediately!]

The phrasing was polite yet urgent, and they'd included a phone number at the end.

At first glance, it seemed fine. But something about it rubbed Bokue the wrong way.

"Belonging to Jujutsu High?" He's the one who confiscated it—how did it magically become their property?

And as for "extremely dangerous…"

He glanced at the briefcase from last night, sitting peacefully on the table. The seal he'd set up was working perfectly.

Popping open the lid for a quick peek, he saw the finger resting exactly where it had been. Not even a twitch—like it was begging to be left alone.

If it ever did try any funny business, he could squash it under one shot.

Might as well show it who's boss…

So he typed a reply:

—[Hi there, I'm Marcus Aurelius.]

And hit send.

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